


pallida semper ora fame

by MadameHardy



Category: Return to Night - Mary Renault, TED Talks
Genre: Alternate sexuality, Crossover, F/M, Mantisfuck Consentworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameHardy/pseuds/MadameHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 201- TED talk on the evolutionary pros and cons of humanivore relationships, accompanied by an examination of these pros and cons as illustrated by the lives and loves of Hilary Mansell and Julian Clare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naraht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A TED talk about the biological and historical implications of mantisfuck consentworld.

**Session 7: More**  
 **Sierra Clark, Envisioner**

_Futuresmith, change agent, and musician, MIT Media Lab graduate Sierra Clark synthesizes vision and experience to discover/create new worlds._

(fade in)   
you wish you never ever met her at all!  
you wish you never ever met her at all!  
you wish you never ever met her at all!  
(fade out) 

Inspired by the discovery of the naked mole rat, transhumanists pioneered the theory that a sufficiently detailed extrapolation of biological truths must have a physical counterpart. Human imagination defines the natural world, for we are natural objects and our minds instantiate what will — or has already! — take place. Which brings us to the topic of this talk, the reproductivore human.

While the _concept_ may be purely hypothetical at the moment, the reality of the matter is that the very act of my choosing to imagine a construct guarantees that somewhere — in the bio-engineered future, the near present, or even, quite possibly, the past — that construct must be realized, made flesh. Today we're going to analyze the pros and cons of eating your sex partner [pause for laughter]— now, now, let's not get inappropriate here, settle down. 

I propose the very real possibility that the XX-enhanced humans among us may boldly advance to consuming their male counterparts, with the ultimate goal being to create a superior race. I'm going to skip lightly over the obvious advantages, to keep from boring you and to make optimal use of our limited time together. Briefly, then, a reproductivore future would serve to maximize scarce housing stock for the new generation; to efficiently nourish the mother with a known, locally-grown and organically-nourished — you're all paleo, right? We're not savages, but we can learn from them— food source; and suppressing unnecessary childhood stress due to partner-offspring conflict. I'm sure you can think of more. (Bros, fret not: remember that a transhumanist chooses gender at will. You aren't bound for the meathook, unless you want to be, and that's cool too; transhumanity is all about choice.)

One obvious model is the praying -- with an "a" or an "e", I'm not picky about vowels -- mantis, an insect in which the female notoriously consumes the male while mating. Just so you know, praying mantises were only introduced to the North American continent in the 19th century BCE; they're immigrants just like us! Let's think about human mantises, "humantises" for short.

If we want to continue optimizing the human race, from an evolutionary-biology point of view something's gotta give. Sadly, natural selection is a slow and oftentimes hit-or-miss process; the progression of our species is dependent on the joining of one cock and one cunt; two sets of gametes, twenty years of waiting. In the near future, biogenetically-enhanced humans could reproduce nearly 180 percent more efficiently via external baby fabricators, optionally gestating multiple progeny at once, maximizing gamete output while at peak fertility. Nonetheless, the ratio of child produced per parent lifetime remains deplorably low.

Much more advantageously from their point of view, mantises lay eggs, aso that one mating suffices to create all the hatchlings you could possibly want— leaving aside how many hatchlings a mantis actually _does_ want. [pause for knowing audience laughter; may chuckle here if it doesn't seem smug] We need a model seated firmly in the optimal space between the mantids' external reproduction, based on small maternal investment and a minimal juvenile period, and the large-maternal-investment long-juvenile-period process that has resulted in human intelligence. 

Let's focus on egg-laying. Blah blah humans are mammals, mammals have internal eggs. Set aside everything you learned in your third-grade science classes; no birds, bees, or amoebas here! This is the future — or, quite possibly, the past — we're talking about. 

**Scenario 1. What if humantises lay multiple external eggs?**

In that case, our humantises are capable of producing as many offspring as they want, and the ritual murder of one king-male in exchange for a hundred babies makes perfect biological sense. [pause for laughter] However, it isn't easy for the surviving parent to raise that many children. As I have previously mentioned, human intelligence proceeds from an extended juvenile period. Of course, we could postulate infertile workers to take care of the multiple babies, but at that point we're into hum _ants_ , not humantises. We've got a limited amount of time as it is; ask me back next year!

**Scenario 2. In some species of spider, males produce sperm packets (spermatophores, if you're being technical) and offer them up to the queen.**

A humantis male could produce multiple spermatophores, then present them to the female, who accepts the gifts (as well as his calories), stores them away for use at a later date, and later consumes them one by one. Each living space could have a special sperm chamber, where the mother-to-be stores the packets she has yet to use. However, our humantis woman is not just a consumer but a Maker: she'll throw something wonderful together with her in-home 3D printer. (She can make Tupperware, too; handy for both kinds of leftovers!)

**…**

**Scenario 5. What if the Mantifestation only affects a tiny percentage of the population, say one in a thousand women?**

Most women are normal, if by that we we mean "conforming to the statistical norm". Those women reproduce as often as possible, then rear as many of the resulting offspring as they can. By contrast, the Womantis, one in a thousand among her drab less-evolved counterparts, puts all her reproductive chances into one basket and so — knowingly or not — does her mate. Consent is appreciated, but in this case, not mandatory. The Womantis can funnel all her reproductive efforts into one superbaby. Even though one in a thousand women — and, perhaps unfortunately from their own point of view, their mates — reproduces but once in a lifetime, the overall population will still continue to grow. 

In this scenario, it is quite possible — indeed probable — that Womantises already exist, as a more-or- less-secret subset of the population. There are always myths, and myths go hand-in-hand with murders. In the Burning Times, women are killed on suspicion of being a wyfbítel — don't let your wife bite you, guys! Even at the height of the Enlightenment, not a soul is willing to confront the ancient mythical womantides, meaning that their numinous fertility rites pass unnoticed by the philosophical establishment. These centuries of mistrust and abuse demand that Womantises disguise the disappearance of their men, but in premodern times that's easy enough to bring about. 

Which does bring us to the present, doesn't it? Of course there _are_ no Womantises … unless you're dating one! Watch out for wyfbítels!  
[pause for enthusiastic and possibly rowdy applause]


	2. Practice

_…these, with circumspection and apology and a sense of bad form, touched if they must on their daily shortening expectation of maturity._

**Scenario 1**  
They were in their now-customary places in the hall, Hilary in Lisa's comfortable armchair next to the fireplace, Julian curled up at her feet with his head in her lap. Suddenly Julian turned his head and, rather shyly, met Hilary's eyes. "I've been thinking about the old place."

_Not this again_ , thought Hilary, but kept her own voice even and calm."I know you must miss it, darling."

"No, not that. It's not about me, at all."

"Your mother, then? I know she gets lonely sometimes, but I had thought —"

Julian sat up abruptly, Hilary's caressing hand fallen forgotten from the thick hair. "Oh, confound it, it's not about Mother, either. You _know_ what it's about!" He retained the child's confidence that the adults knew all, and could solve all if only they could be brought to do so.

"My dear —"

"If I'm your dear, then _make_ me yours!"

"Julian, we've been over this time and again, I haven't the space or the energy."

"If you'd let us move back to the old place, there are heaps of bedrooms, enough for all the babies you could want, and we wouldn't have to risk —"

"Julian darling, the biggest risk is to _you_. I can't lose you. There hasn't been enough —"

"There's a war, Hilary, hadn't you heard? Fate takes her due one way or another, and at least _this_ way —"

"At least this way _you'd_ be satisfied." The bitterness burst out, in spite of all Hilary's good intentions.

"Yes. Yes, I should be."

"But, darling, you'd be —"

"It's what I was _meant_ for. We both know it." In one of the few ungraceful movements Hilary had ever seen him make, Julian lurched to his feet and walked — stamped, in fact — out of the room.

Hilary looked at her empty lap, eyes prickling. The choice was clear enough, to eyes willing to see. She would indeed lose Julian one way or another; the only choice that was truly hers was how to do so.

**Scenario 2**  
Hilary sat in Lisa's comfortable hall staring into the fire. Mrs. Fleming had gone up to London to do some shopping; she had insisted on organising the baby's things, coupons or no. Hilary was quite certain that Mrs. Fleming's dealings with the long-established shop "where I bought things for … for Julian, you know" were not entirely according to government regulations, but it was hardly any concern of Hilary's, and in any case the supplies were rather urgently needed. 

Hilary glanced down at her own bulging thorax. Such a nuisance, all of it, and such a waste. Enough of that. Moping about did Julian's sacrifice no credit. He had known what he wanted, had hinted it, had wheedled for it, and, finally, had got it. Julian always had, somehow. Therefore here sat Hilary, preparing to rear Julian's baby alone. At least, alone for now. Hilary glared, as she frequently did, at the sleek and streamlined temperature-controlled spermatophore humidor humming to itself in the corner of the sitting-room. Mrs. Fleming had _insisted_ , of course, and Julian had laughed with Hilary at the presumption, but somehow they had kept it nonetheless. Hilary had threatened to use it to keep perishable drugs, but now … now it was a reminder. A reminder, a threat, a promise, somewhere betwixt and between. 

If Hilary chose, she could pass the thing on to the Hospital, or to Lisa if it ever should become appropriate. Hilary had always assumed Lisa and Rupert themselves preferred length of years to glory, but Lisa was far more enthusiastic about Hilary's condition than Hilary had ever been. At present, Rupert was far away doing something unspoken and unspeakable, and certainly could not be spared for the duration. Who knew what the Clares' plans had been, would be if…? Always _if_ , now, never _when_. Hilary wished she were the praying sort of person, wished she believed in a God who protected His children, who could be swayed by individual entreaty. Quite the contrary, Hilary had long ago decided that a God who would create syphilis, smallpox, and spermatophores was far worse than no God at all. 

**Scenario 5**  
War can be waged in many fashions. The conversation around the tea-trolley was not — but, of course, was — meant for Hilary's ears. Formal insubordination must have met with formal reprimand, but innocent conversations, with no personal identification, could not be taken note of, unless the noter wanted to look both petty and silly. 

Nurse Jones's voice rang out above the clatter of cups. "The way she looks at him isn't even decent; I swear, it's as if she wanted to eat him alive!"

Hilary smiled a secret smile.

**Author's Note:**

>   * Thanks and praise to Llwyden for "wyfbítel". 
>   * Thanks also to spock for a truly magnificent beta; she ought properly to get co-author credit, but is too modest to accept it. Learn from the Womantises! Take what you're offered! 
>   * I have taken the great liberty of erasing Lisa's tragic reproductive history. 
> 



End file.
